Remain Silent
by HeliosNerd
Summary: Any contract through the Black Hand will be fulfilled, no matter the obstacles.


Off the bitter sea brewed a frigid wind, like always, the kind that tore through holes in clothing and served as a reminder of the true hostility of the province. It was the same wind that shattered invaders and made the Nords so arrogant in their abilities, a wind that liked to breathe confidence into soldiers and push them into senseless battles. For Nil, it was more homey than even a crackling fire or a lukewarm bottle of mead. He pulled the fabric away from his nose and mouth, wanting to drink in the terrible sea wind unfiltered for a moment while it whipped at his hood and hair. A taste of the sea kept him grounded when the rest of the world whisked him away.

The whispers still echoed in his ear, secret contracts formed in sleepy taverns, unsuspecting patrons eyeing the red-rimmed armor of the Black Hand. Leaving without a trace, just the unspoken promise that all would be well when the blade had done its work left to soothe the rabble. Nil had been in the game for quite some time, and after a few novice contracts declaring the curse of Sithis upon poor targets he had come to accept that assassins had little use for words. Theirs was a business of action, after all. Leave the chatter to the jarls and their thanes.

Finally he turned from the sea, wrapping his face once more with the ominous black cowl while he descended on the mainland. A challenging target this time, someone almost as versed in the darkness as Nil himself: the new Guildmaster. The customer did not know the thief's name, nor their appearance, but had been robbed blind by the criminal and determined that people could not climb to power in such a way. Nil had pondered the idea that stealing a life was not the best way to teach such a lesson, but felt obligated to hide his thoughts. A contract was a contract, and if one had been so desperate as to seek out an assassin surely they had considered all the implications of their actions. It was not his place to question good work.

After stowing the shrouded armor of his happy little family in a knapsack, and now unassumingly clad in a belted tunic, Nil climbed in the back of a carriage bound for Riften. It was the most likely spot to find rumors of the new Guildmaster, and if circumstances determined that the notorious thief was not at home Nil was confident enough in his abilities to break into the Guild's little hideaway and merely wait. That was always a fun kill: waiting in the corner of the bedroom while the unsuspecting target prepared for sleep, scratching nails across the wall to put a little fear in their heart as the unfortunate life crawled into bed, creeping along the shadows and allowing a pair of eyes in a black hood to be the last thing seen by the newly deceased. Nil enjoyed a little theatrics in his contracts, made his jobs a little different from the rest of the family. For now, however, he participated in some harmless gossip with the carriage driver. Nonprofessional Nil could afford to be loose-lipped, spreading fantastic stories across the province while taking in a few from peasants not willing to be outdone. It passed the time, and between contracts he certainly had enough of it.

It was dusk when the carriage pulled to a halt at the decrepit city gates. Nil paid the driver his due—always spending money to make it—and entered the city with a cheerful grin unbecoming of one versed in Riften lore. It was not so much that he was truly excited, but rather that he wanted word of an ignorant traveler to hit the ears of a thief likely to attack such unsuspecting prey.

In the tavern that night Nil kept his knapsack between his knees and his eyes enthusiastically on every newcomer to the tavern. The thieves liked to wear their armor for everyone to see, but he knew the Guildmaster's differed slightly, and that difference had not yet appeared. Already he had seen quite a few purses slit and gold emptied into greedy but untraceable hands, hence the need to keep the bag containing his own secret close to his person. This was a disgusting city; he refused to be another victim of its terrifying criminal organization, but it was definitely entertaining to watch.

A body slid into the chair across from him. Nil had considered himself so careful in picking the spot to be hidden from other peasants, as if only an opportunistic robber would be able to see it at all. The rather drab tunic of the newcomer was disappointing, though as soon as Nil's eyes wandered upward he was amazed by a shock of flaming red hair.

"New in town?" the stranger asked casually, his voice some smooth combination of a proud but humble Nord warrior and a highborn Imperial legate. It was a voice that was too mighty in all senses to belong to a commoner.

"Yes," Nil replied effortlessly, finding his own northern voice almost shabby in comparison. "I'm here on business."

"I see. What do the Black-Briars want with you?"

"Wheat," Nil lied immediately. "I'm a farmer just south of Shor's Stone."

"Dangerous place, with all the giants."

"Only if you seek trouble." Nil ran his fingers along the neck of his mead bottle, a typical fidget for unsuspecting patrons. "I've lived on the same farm my whole life, never had trouble with the giants."

The stranger grinned and leaned back into his seat. "You're a good liar, I'll give you that. All I know for sure is you're no wheat farmer."

Nil cursed internally; he was being swindled by a thief in disguise. He tightened his knees around the knapsack. "Well I might be more willing to share if you were. Forgive me if I'm not so trusting in this city."

"As a resident, I can tell you that's the only truth you've said all night." The stranger stretched his arms, completely at ease with the situation which made him, in Nil's eyes, suspicious. "My name is Julius. I was born in Riften, but only recently moved back for business."

"You're with the Guild," Nil assumed. "I had a feeling."

"Good judge of character?"

"No, just anyone willing to talk so long about nothing in this city is a thief causing a distraction."

Julius laughed heartily but drew no attention, thanks to the busy thieves and confounded patrons. "You're smart. I can't put my finger on why, though. What do you do that makes you this way?"

"I'll give you three choices. Believe the one you will." Nil felt himself grinning just a bit; it had been a while since someone had seen through his disguises and this man, while likely harboring darker intent, seemed affable enough for the time being. "I am a Cyrodilic noble curious about the workings of Skyrim thanks to this war, hence the getup and the lies. I am a Stormcloak spy assigned to Riften because I am the least likely to be robbed while here, though I am not perfect by any means. I am an aspiring mage seeking victims for my spells in the Ratway, but lie so that suspicious peasants don't run me out of town."

Julius pondered for a moment, his nose crinkling a bit. He had an eternally youthful face, though Nil estimated his age only a few years less than that of the assassin himself. "I have no idea. I don't think any of them are true, but I like the wheat farmer story the best."

"Good, because I've put the most thought into that one."

"I see that." Julius eyed the mead bottle but before Nil could offer him a drink the fiery-haired man stood abruptly, rattling the bottle. "Do you want to do something fun?"

"What kind of fun?"

"Typical Riften fun." Julius had such a tantalizing, beckoning smirk that tugged at even Nil's paralyzed heartstrings. The fiery-haired thief was purely magnetic. "Come on, Liar. I know you're not a lawful man."

Without a word Nil felt himself rise from his seat while slinging the knapsack over a shoulder, almost as if under a spell but he knew better when it came to the thieves. He blamed the attraction on the simple temptation of sampling the dark activities of another form of outlaw, but something deeper was beginning to stir in his gut, a primitive decision to trust the stranger based on emotion alone. Julius seemed more than pleased to have company as he entered the derelict streets of Riften, and, once certain Nil was following, he set a jaunting pace towards the least likely of places: Black-Briar Meadery.

When the lockpick flashed in Julius's hand, Nil spoke up in a harsh whisper, "I thought the Black-Briars controlled the Guild. What are you doing?"

"They don't control us," Julius whispered back, somehow the breath of the words carrying humor. "I never really liked them anyway, but I can't drag another member into this."

Nil found himself smiling childishly at the thought of a rogue thief robbing the Black-Briars. He was excited to be a part of such a unique event, and would be sure to share the gist of the story with carriage drivers and locals his entire trip home. Once he was back with the family there would be no more sweet little stories of plundering and petty crimes, only his latest savage kill and assignment to the next job. Very few words required on his part. Newly determined to cherish the moment, Nil squatted beside Julius and murmured, "Anything in particular you want to take?"

"Anything not nailed down." The lock finally clicked and Julius pushed open the forbidden door. The pair slipped inside with the chilly night air and were met with a thankfully empty warehouse. They ignored the petty amounts of gold housed in the small counter and instead found themselves back in the warehouse with its huge, bubbling vats. He recalled distinctly that they served themselves from this fresh brew and after that the night blurred into nothing.

When he woke he was tangled in a haystack behind the Riften stables, the body of the thief awkwardly collapsed both below and beside him. His head was whirling, so incoherently numb that not even the sharp sea air could possibly clarify it, and his stomach was in knots. From the barely discernible expression on the thief's face—which was largely buried in straw—he was experiencing similar symptoms. Nil allowed himself to relax back into the hay so as not to disturb either of their fragile heads.

"What did we do?" he muttered to the cloudy heavens.

"I hope it raised hell for the Black-Briars, whatever it was," Julius replied in an aching but satisfied tone. "Thanks for the night, Liar."

Nil grunted, but then decided he could muster a proper response. "It beats business."

Julius wheezed something that passed for a laugh and hauled himself into a seated position, untangling his legs from Nil's. "I'm sure it does. Good luck with that contract, by the way."

Panic flooded in with the dizziness as Nil searched wildly for his knapsack, and came to the sobering realization that it was long gone, and his shrouded armor was now carelessly strewn in the haystack amongst the pair. It would be transparently obvious for anyone walking by that he was one of Skyrim's most dangerous assassins, and that meant that he was committed to the family completely now, never to spend even a few precious moments in ordinary society. Stealing sustenance, creeping through the outskirts of towns, permanently hidden beneath his armor to protect his wanted face, that was the life that awaited him now. He wished he could say goodbye to the simple life but a murderer dare not raise his voice.

He glanced at Julius again, who was struggling almost pathetically to pull himself out of the hay, and pondered fervently the idea of killing this man right now to protect his identity. It seemed that no one had yet stirred in the stables themselves, so the only soul that had seen the reveal of the armor was the hungover thief. Kill the witnesses and the crime vanishes, like magic, that was something Nil had learned early in his career but attempted to avoid. Perhaps now was the time to exercise that knowledge.

A blade, so sharp it had regularly sliced through lesser sheaths, hung tantalizingly on Nil's back, permanently hidden beneath his clothes in case he ever found himself in desperate need of his most deadly weapon. It would be easy to remove the thief's head now, if Nil so desired, even with his head whirling like leaves caught in rapids. He held himself, though, for the simple reason that Julius, too, was a criminal and unlikely to go running his mouth. They were united in a shared felony; that kind of bond was thicker than blood, in Nil's experience, hence how it held together a family who shared no such relations.

For the rest of the day Nil continued his mental debate on whether or not the thief needed to die, even when he had sobered back to the point of logic, even when he garbed himself in the shrouded armor and effectively hid his identity, even when he returned to his original goal of tracking down the ill-fated Guildmaster, even when he discovered the secret entrance to the Thieves' Guild and had easy access to every vagrant in the whole organization. True, there were rumored to be Nightingales amongst the common robbers again, but even they did not detect Nil as he slipped into the musty cistern. Its occupants were mostly asleep anyway, aside from a few who tiptoed to their beds. He had one close call when a burly thief started the trek towards the ladder leading out, but Nil was silent enough and crafty enough to slip past the man by sticking firmly to the shadows of the outermost rim of the chamber. Now safe, the murderer crept towards a nicely furnished area containing the Guild's books, treasures, and tribute chest. He saw a figure clad in that slightly different armor asleep in a large bed near the little setup, and knew this was the Guildmaster. No guesswork, no deduction, just the pure fact of the rogue's identity. Nil reached for his hidden knife, the one so deadly sharp and yet kept so close to his body. He remembered Julius, felt his stomach churn as the debate arose again, but narrowed his focus to the contract. After all, he was no longer some lying traveller. It was time to work. Personal concerns were no longer valid.

The slumbering Guildmaster, previously facing away from Nil, rolled onto his back and his hood slipped off his head, revealing unmistakeable fiery hair. Suddenly the debate was settled and Nil felt his face pull into a grin underneath the shrouded cowl. Personal and professional issues solved with one clean slice. For a moment he towered over the Guildmaster's bed and considered theatric ways to ensure he had a worthwhile story when he returned to the sanctuary, but in a moment of pure ignorance Nil bumped the bed and the thief's eyes bolted open.

For a tense heartbeat Julius merely stared, but after recognizing the armor and pulling the morning's events back into mind he grinned. "Liar. Need help finding that contract?"

I'm looking at him, I guess you'll find out, no help required, so many thoughts jumped into Nil's head but he held his tongue.

"Liar?" Julius's eyes narrowed, then he started to sit up. The realization was starting to sink in and the thief was not prepared. "Look, we had fun last night. Can't we work something out? I know you have a reputation, I got one too, but maybe I can just go into hiding. I can pay you double what they paid for me."

Nil liked the idea but lowered the blade to his target's neck nonetheless.

"Why didn't you kill me last night? I must've told you I was the Guildmaster."

Perhaps he had; Nil did not remember or care.

"Please, you don't need to do this. I'll do anything." It was almost amusing how the leader of one of the most notorious criminal organizations pleaded so fervently for his life. Nil suspected at this point he was just attempting to alert the other thieves, but Nil did not care. He needed them to see the body to prove the man's death. If they happened to catch a glimpse of the armored assassin in the process the burden fell on them to sort out his identity. "Liar, please. We had fun last night, we were almost friends. Please."

With the blade beginning to sink into the thief's flesh, Nil leaned down to meet Julius's eyes personally as the life ebbed away from them. He rearranged his cowl so that his mouth, sealed lips and all, were revealed to the dying man. Julius's pleas became almost psychotic, cyclical in how he uttered them, so redundant Nil lost meaning for the word, and finally the dagger sunk into the Guildmaster's vein and severed his life. Nil's eyes never strayed as Julius gagged on his own blood, drowned, and collapsed back against his pillow. Though his eyes remained wide and terrified, his mouth had snapped shut, mirroring Nil's, forever to remain silent.


End file.
